


I Never

by FilmsAreFriends



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FilmsAreFriends/pseuds/FilmsAreFriends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We made a thing. You should read it! </p><p>Seriously though--Red and Lizzie are stuck in a basement during a hurricane. A drinking game leads to a whole lot of fluff and smut!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Catherine_Medici and I are so happy to bring you this fic! Please enjoy our collaboration. It's been a pleasure so far. This first lovely chapter is all hers!

"We won't reach Boston in time to avoid this lovely little weather event," he said calmly, his measured voice easing her nerves a little. "How fortuitous for us that I just happen to know of a little shack about ten minutes from here. It's not ideal, Lizzie," he said, peering through the front windscreen into the roiling mass of dark clouds. "But I'd certainly take it over being caught out in this."

"Won't your contact be concerned if we don't show?"

"Probably. But if he knows what's good for him, he'll wait for us."

She shrugged. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Red's calm was certainly infectious. She barely noticed that his speed was gradually getting faster over that next ten minutes. They were almost at the shack before she started to feel anxious again.

The wind was so strong that Red had to come around to her side of the car and help her open the passenger door. He reached into the back seat, grabbing both of their bags, linked arms with her and they slowly made their way to the front door, their heads both down against the wind.

Neither of them saw it, the wind was in their faces, making it almost impossible to breathe, let alone open their eyes. But they heard it. The sickening crack of a tree branch overhead. It happened so fast for Red, he barely registered it as she fell.

They'd been linking arms tightly enough that she dragged him down, stumbling onto his knees. The branch had caught her a blow on the temple. She wasn't unconscious but she looked as if she wished she was, writhing and dry retching on the ground, gasping for a breath that the cyclonic wind kept snatching from her throat.

He half carried, half dragged her onto the front porch, cursing as she moaned in pain.

"Lizzie...Lizzie, stay awake. We're almost there," he urged her anxiously as she slumped against the front door. He'd been expecting to be able to rely on her skills to assist with the locked door but she was in no shape to stand, let alone use her light fingered talent just then.

He fumbled in the pockets of her coat, searching for the little red case with her lock picks. She'd been so annoyed when he'd had that commissioned for her last week. He'd pretended hurt confusion. Didn't she want the best tools to play with? And all in that pretty leather case, too.

She'd huffed and puffed. But she'd had more than one occasion to use them since.

He desperately picked at the lock, once, twice, a third time. On the fourth try he managed to get the door unlocked. He opened it and they fell inside together.

"Red?" She was slurring a little.

"I'm here," he knelt to get her into a sitting position. She smiled woozily.

"We can breathe again," she exclaimed happily, sounding a little off kilter to him.

"Lizzie, how do you feel?" He enquired, carefully pulling her eyelids up to check her pupils. "I'm afraid I left the bags outside and it's getting too dangerous out there to go back and retrieve them. I had Tylenol in my bag, useless now, unfortunately, but maybe we'll find some here. Can you stand?"

"Nope," she said cheerfully, sprawled in a sitting position on the floor. "My head hurts like a...something that hurts a lot."

His cheek twitched. He was worried. "I'm going to need to get you down to the basement. This looks to be an intense storm. Come on," he said, lifting her arm and putting it around his shoulder, circling her waist with his own arms.

She winced, her face creased in pain. "Oh no, I think I'm going to be sick," she moaned.

He led her slowly down the stairs to the basement, supporting her whole weight, stopping occasionally when she needed to take some slow breaths. She was still dizzy, she’d said, but she could see straight again. 

He deposited her carefully onto the overstuffed couch in the basement.

“Sit up Lizzie, you’re going to need to stay awake for a little while. You have a concussion. I’m sure you’ll be fine, but just in case, no sleeping on the job,” he said playfully, firmly dampening down his anxiety for her. 

She rolled her eyes at him. "I know I have a concuss...concussion," she said, her nose in the air and a comically dignified look in her face. "And I have done all the FBI field modules. You don't need to tell me."

"Well then. Can I at least check your head? You're probably going to have an awful lump in a few hours."

She nodded, flinching at the movement.

"Hold on, I'll check the medicine cabinet," he said, throwing another worried look at her as he hurried upstairs.

He scooped up everything he could find in the bathroom and the kitchen that looked vaguely useful for basic first aid as well as a night in a basement with the makings of a hurricane overhead. Some over the counter pain relievers, bandages, scissors,and any food he found in the pantry. He wasn't expecting much, really all they had was a large packet of chocolate chip cookies, a packet of instant macaroni cheese and a bottle of wine. He left the macaroni but took the cookies, wine and a glass for himself. It wouldn't do to have Lizzie drinking after a concussion. There was nothing stopping him from fuzzing his nerves a little though.

"Lizzie!" He began gaily, hoping to keep her alert with his voice. "Would you like a cookie?"

She squinted one eye at him. "No thanks."

"Alright then, all the more for me. Let me get you a glass of water though." He moved to the ensuite sink, grabbing a towel and a glass, filling it up from the faucet. 

"I'm just going to check your head," he said, gently reaching into her hair, searching for the lump he knew would be there. 

She hissed.

“Sorry, darling,” he murmured, his hands dabbing at her temple with the towel. “Just let me clean it up a little bit.”

There was no reason to bandage the lump on her head really. She’d just need to be careful and sit still. And not fall asleep anytime soon.

“This reminds me of New York, two thousand eleven. Your friend agent Ressler was chasing me back then, making a terrible hash of things. Poor fellow came for me while I was at the theatre. I knew one of the actresses on that night. She hid me in her dressing room. Answered the knock at her door completely nude, the daring little minx. I would have loved to have seen Donald’s face as he scrambled to leave. As it was, I did hear his awkward apologies. He really is painful with women, isn't he?”

She grimaced, clearly not enamoured of the story from the sour frown on her face. “What’s this got to do with getting hit on the head?”

“Oh! Yes, well. Donald had taken his leave and I’d waited around in her lovely little dressing room for a few hours just to be sure. We shared a bottle of some dreadful Pinot Noir, as I remember. And just as I was leaving, I took a tumble down the stairs at the back of the theatre and smacked myself a good one on the head. Dembe had to piggy back me half way to the car.”

She smirked. 

He smiled back encouragingly. “That’s the way. Keep your spirits up Lizzie! It’s going to be a long night…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! 
> 
> This is my chapter, Catherine_Medici's first chapter was way better than this will ever be. 
> 
> Leave a review and we'll love you forever!

“So...where the hell are we any--way?” She hiccuped in the middle of her sentence. Red gave her a glass of wine against his better judgement. Just one, he had told her. 

“Oh, it seems I’ve left that out, haven’t I? We’re in Rhode Island, smallest state in the country, lovely little place, though! Have you ever been here, Lizzie?”

“N--no.” The hiccuping wasn’t getting better. 

“Ah, I wish I could show you around! Wouldn’t take us more than two hours to do the whole state. I used to do some business around here with an Italian mobster. Providence, Rhode Island is well-known for its organized crime. Oh, the good old days.” 

Even with a concussion, Liz was disenchanted with Red’s devil-may-care attitude. She just took another sip of wine. 

“Ever hear of Whitey Bulger, Lizzie?” 

“No, I work for the FBI and I’ve never heard of him! Who on Earth could he be?” 

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you well, sweetheart.”

And there was that development. After they managed to get out of DC, he started calling her sweetheart. It was maddening...but she had to admit that it was also quite alluring. So she started calling him Red to even the playing field. When she first said it, she was in his arms after she made it out of the Cabal’s attempt on her life. He told her she was smart to go to the embassy, but he had been so scared. She remembered feeling him shake. 

She had been scared, too. She thought she would honestly never see Red again, a thought that seemed as impossible as her winning the lottery. She had to admit that he provided an overwhelming sense of safety and belonging, something she had never experienced with anybody. They had gotten in the car and drove North. He pointed out some sights to her on the back roads they had to maneuver. His plan was to get to Boston, charter his small yacht, and get out to sea as soon as possible. 

The ride had actually been fun. They talked briefly about Tom, but they agreed that he had no place with either of them. She had said that it was a mistake and that before she knew Red’s true intentions, which were only ever to keep her safe and cared for, she felt as if he wasn’t on her side. He apologized in a way that she never thought would come from him. At one point, she sobbed and he quickly pulled over. They stood by the side of the road, Liz crying on his shoulder, his hands wrapped around her body in a tight bear hug. He held her hand for the remainder of their trip while he told her light hearted stories to make her feel better. 

With the whole FBI, a clandestine government, possibly Russian spies, and whoever else after her, Elizabeth never felt safer than right there in Raymond Reddington’s embrace. She smiled at the thought of being his sidekick from that point on, being his partner...and whatever else they might encounter together. The ride up wasn’t exactly the first time she had looked at him...differently. He was an attractive man. And the way he looked at her, like she was all that mattered. Like she was more beautiful than the pyramids. But up until they were on the run together, there was no room for anything romantic to develop. Not while she still didn’t have answers she sought from him. She knew enough now to know the only thing that really mattered. 

She loved him. Faults, scars, past, future, gray hairs...the whole man. She loved Raymond Reddington. 

She looked over at him and saw him smiling sweetly at her.

“What?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, we were talking about criminals and then you went off to Candyland and left me here with your body.” 

“Oh, shut up, Red.”

She punched his shoulder lightly and he threw her a pained force before they both started laughing. The wine was working on both of their empty stomachs. 

“So, what about Whitey Bulger?”

“I was going to say that I took my nod from him when I turned myself in. By my calculations, if he worked with the Feds to take down one criminal, they’d love me if I could give them a whole laundry list of them. I once knew this hitman that worked for Whitey’s worst enemy just twenty minutes from here in Providence-” 

“Alright, alright. No more stories. Why don’t we play a game or something? We’re gonna be here a while.” 

“A drinking game? Because I would advise against that with your concussion.”

“Let’s use something else then. Got any soda?”

“Let me go look.”

Red made his way to the small cabinet and pulled out two Cokes. He handed one to Lizzie and plopped down next to her. As they cracked open their flat soda, she explained the rules. 

“So we take turns saying something we’ve never done. For example, I’ve never been to prison. And if you have done that thing, you drink. If not, we go right to your turn. Sound good?”

Red rolled his eyes and brought his soda to his lips. He stopped before he took a swig.

“How many times did Donald put me in that wretched box? At least half a can’s worth of lonely nights, I suppose.” 

He took three big sips from his can and smiled at her. 

“So it’s my turn now? Okay...I’ve never done ecstasy.” 

Liz jerked her head back in confusion. 

“You’re lying just to see my reaction. You’ve probably done every drug there is.”

“I’ve never done ecstasy, or my name isn’t Raymond Reddington.”

He was serious. Oh. Liz lowered her head and slowly brought her warm soda toward her mouth. 

“Oh my, have I found a chink in miss Elizabeth’s armor?” 

“Shut the hell up.”

“This was your idea, sweetheart. I’m just playing along. Now, I’m dying to know this story.” 

“That’s not how this works. Quit being an asshat.” 

“I’m not being a...what? Asshat? What is the point of this game if we don’t learn a little about one another?” 

She sighed loudly. 

“It was in college, I was an A-typical freshman, this senior wanted me to try it, so I did.”

“And…?”

“And, well...I woke up on the quad...naked.”

She had never heard him laugh so hard. When she realized he wasn’t going to stop, she joined him. It was her pinnacle party story, after all. She just never thought she would be having a party with The Concierge of Crime. When their laughter subsided, he put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head with a smile. 

“Why haven’t you told me this before?” 

“My friends told me I decided to streak and then I stopped for a nap. They woke me up before I got in trouble.” 

“I do know a thing or two about streaking…”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their game yielded surprisingly great results. Liz learned much more about the man behind the three-piece suit over five cans of expired soda. They talked about books, movies, music, their craziest nights, their proudest moments, and everything in between. When she sensed they were nearing the end, she decided to wedge in a final turn.

“I’ve never been in love with anyone younger than me.” 

He immediately tensed. Carla was a year older than him. She knew what she was doing. She gave off quite the nonchalant air. 

That was why he loved her. Well, she was going to find out somehow. 

He took a drink. 

She crossed her arms tightly and frowned. She hadn’t expected him to actually do it. Now she was beginning to think she wasn’t going to get the response she intended. 

“...who was it?”

“No, no. Who is it.” 

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend? Or does she not know? You’re the one that’s always saying you should take chances and live life.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so adorable.” 

“Red, what are you saying?”   
He laughed lightly and laid his hand over hers on the couch. 

“Red?”

“It’s you. I’m in love with you, Lizzie. Have been since we met at the Post Office.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from the great Catherine_Medici. Hope you enjoy a real writer's work!

She swallowed painfully. This. She had known this. Since the night he had gently led her out into starlit skies and pointed out Polaris, claiming it as his avatar of her. 

She had trembled over the ensuing weeks. Denying to herself the power she held over this dangerous man. She knew, maybe had always known, that she had the power to crush him with just her little finger.

And he was baring himself to her now, knowing that she might crush him still.

“Red,” she began softly.

“Lizzie, it's alright,” he interrupted her, a smile of gentle understanding on his face. “I don’t expect anything from you. I just felt that perhaps I’d given too much of it away over the past few weeks. Made a fool of myself and probably had you wondering. I don't want there to be any confusion about what I feel for you.” 

He sat back after this speech, his hand still lightly covering hers. His eyes crinkled at the corners, he was preparing for her rejection, preparing to tell her that it wouldn't change a thing, he would always be here to protect her.

A million thoughts, doubts, fears passed through her mind and she cast them all away in the one moment and leaned forward, almost tipping into him, letting him catch her in his arms.

“Red,” she murmured, brushing her lips over his, letting his scent, his presence just wash over her, the pleasant, low heat of desire and...something else entirely, consuming her.

“Lizzie, this wasn’t…” he tried to finish his sentence but she was kissing him insistently now, refusing to be denied, her hands cupping the back of his head, her breasts squashed up against his chest.

“Lizzie, please,” he gasped out, “I can’t...if this...you’re everything, sweetheart. If you..” he choked over his words, gasped out between her open mouthed kisses.

She heard him and she understood. He was offering her everything and asking her not to accept it if she couldn't do the same.

Her lips curved into a smile against his skin. “Red, do you know what?” She whispered.

“What?”

“I wish I’d tried the baklava.”

He barked a laugh out, his eyes wet and his hands tangled gently in her hair. 

He responded to her, his lips hesitantly meeting hers. Almost disbelieving that he could have this, that this was happening for him. 

"Thank you," she whispered, tilting her head as he traced kisses down the side of her jaw, nibbling at her, his teeth scraping lightly against her skin.

"For what?" His hands were under her shirt now, warm and strong against her ribs, stroking her skin gently.

"For making it simple." She gasped as he took an earlobe into his mouth, biting lightly, moving to her throat, sucking on her skin, leaving her lightheaded. "For loving me, Red. For loving me even when... I've been hard to love."

He paused, his lips still at her throat. Drawing back a little he touched her forehead to his. "Lizzie, loving you has always...always been the easiest thing."

She smiled tremulously, her face screwed up in polite disbelief.

"You don't believe me? Let me show you." He circled her body with his arms, gently laying her down onto the cushions, lying up against her, chest to chest on the couch, his legs intertwining with hers.

She laughed, a low hum of amusement. “You can’t show me I’ve been easy to love. How would you even do that?”

“Hmmm,” he said, stroking her hair away from her forehead. “Perhaps I’ll just...keep you here and tell you stories about the things I’ve felt for you until you're convinced.”

She rolled her eyes. “Always a story with you, huh?”

“Yes, always,” he whispered the words against her skin, running his lips along her bare shoulder and down her arm. Her skin tasted of light sweat and smelled of the perfume he’d bought her in New York. “Lizzie, I’m going to take you to Paris, there’s a perfumer there who will mix a scent just for you. There’s nothing in department stores good enough for you. It’ll have to be bespoke.”

She gave him a patient look. “We need to get to Boston first.”

“Yes, and out to sea for a bit,” he agreed. He nuzzled the juncture of her neck and shoulder with his nose, “And out there you’ll just smell just like seaspray and Lizzie,” he growled, “two of my favorite things.

She threw her head back against the armrest of the couch, baring her neck, inviting him.

He didn't need to be told twice. 

He used his mouth, lips and tongue on her, worshiping her body, delighting in her little hums of approval, in her darling little squeaks when he touched her in just the right way.

"Lizzie, how do you feel? Is your head hurting?"

"Good," she said thickly. "Feels so good."

He chuckled as she arched her back, lifting her body into his touch. "That might be the endorphins then. More?" He'd pushed her shirt up around her arms, the smoothness of her tummy made available to him, and he traced a trail of kisses down from between her breasts to her lower abdomen.

She sighed. "More," she agreed. 

"Maybe I should give you a massage, sweetheart. Would that be nice?"

She eyed him, considering his offer. "It's a bit cold for that don't you think? Not that I'm...well I wouldn't complain." She dimpled at him. 

"He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "I'll turn the heating up. I saw some baby oil in the medicine cabinet upstairs. How about you get...comfortable and I'll be right back?"

He left to grab the baby oil, his heart beating faster than usual. The shock and disbelief at her receptiveness had worn off and he was left with aching anticipation.

He hadn't meant to make this declaration to her, hadn't meant to wear his heart on his sleeve but over the past few weeks, he'd felt his resolve to hold her at arm's length wearing thin. He didn't want her to feel alone. He wanted her to know that she was safe with him, not just physically safe from the Cabal but that she was surrounded by his love. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He returned to find her shirtless and braless, spread out on the floor, half a dozen towels and all the cushions from the couch underneath her. He huffed a laugh. “Lizzie, did you empty the entire linen closet?”

“Ha! You bet. I've always been a creature comforts type of girl,” she said, stretching her arms above her head, twisting and arching her body amongst the cushions.

He swallowed. Hard. His whole body felt somehow tighter, watching her. She was a picture and she knew it too.

He held out the baby oil, presenting it to her. “Still up for that massage?”

She gazed back at him, her chin cradled in her hands. “Oh I think so.” She quirked an eyebrow, flicking a look at the air conditioning system. “I turned the heating up. They've got a gutsy system. It's already warm.”

He pushed his sleeves up, revealing his bare forearms, moving around to her other side and kneeling beside her. “Pity they don't have a massage table handy,” he said laughingly as his knees creaked.

“You don't have to do this,” she protested.

“Oh, but I want to. My patient needs attention,” he said playfully. “Just lie back and relax.” He squirted baby oil into his palm, rubbing it into his hands, warming it up. “I hope this isn't cold,” he said, placing his hands on the small of her back, working the oil into her soft skin.

“Mmm, no that's perfect,” she murmured, sweeping her hair off of her back and pulling it above her head in a lovers knot. She lay her head to the side, her cheek pillowed on her hands, her eyes fluttering closed. 

She looked so utterly peaceful, so trustful and relaxed. He felt his heart softening. They'd be sailing soon and he would have her all to himself. She didn't have a swimsuit yet. He'd arrange for it in Boston. His eyes traveled over her body as his palms smoothed themselves over her creamy skin. He pushed a finger cautiously into the dimples at her lower back, spreading his thumb out, feeling the knots in her muscles. Their time on the run, constantly moving from place to place had taken its toll. Her back was a mass of knots. If he'd known, he would have offered this sooner, just as a platonic gesture.

He knew well the physical challenges of a criminal lifestyle.

“Red,” she said sleepily. “This is wonderful. Even my head’s stopped throbbing. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it.”

He chuckled. “I knew a can-can dancer who used to tell me the same thing. Magic hands, she called them.”

She stiffened and turned over, sitting back on her elbows and looking him in the eye, fully aware that she was naked from the waist up.

He felt his stomach do a strange jump and a welcome heat flared in his groin.

She was magnificent.

But she didn't look happy.

“I think,” she said slowly, moving onto her hands and knees, her breasts swaying hypnotically. “That the next time you tell me a story about a woman.” She stopped what she was saying, crawling toward him, rising up on her knees and throwing her arms around his neck. “It had better be about someone's grandmother.”

And she kissed him, her lips gentle and soft, her tongue playfully dancing with his. She made his heart skip around wildly, like nothing else in the world could do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this travesty of a chapter.

She pulled away slowly, her lips still moist from his velvety tongue. 

“Lizzie...you’re...exquisite.”

She gave him a peck on the corner of his mouth before she spoke: “I could say the same about you, Mr. Reddington. I think all we needed was to be trapped with one another to figure this out.”

He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and let his hand slip down to grasp the side of her breast. 

“I could never be trapped with you, sweetheart.” 

She kissed him so her passion had a way of escaping to the surface. His hand lowered to the curve of her waist and he couldn’t help to think that it fit perfectly on her warm body. 

“Turn over so I can see you.”

She smiled shyly and turned her head away from him. 

“Sweetheart, don’t be scared. Not with me.”

She slowly turned herself over, revealing the smooth skin of her belly and the delightful buds of her breasts. 

He drew a nipple between his teeth immediately, she squealed at the sensation. He rose from his kneeling position to unbuckle his pants, his erection pressing hard against his zipper. 

She loved his boxers, a light cotton plaid, not his usual extravagant dress. 

She blushed and sat up and grabbing his shirt collar, pulling him down for a kiss. He settled his weight on his elbows and knees without breaking their kiss. Her hands pulled at the end of his shirt and he grunted. He pulled away from her delicious embrace and looked at her earnestly. 

“Lizzie, I-”

“I know. Arrest records. I just didn’t know where you got them until I remembered.”

“Oh Lizzie, I’m sorry...I should have told you myself.”

“Red, don’t be scared. Not with me.”

He let her pull everything over his head in one motion, her hands descended back to his torso. 

He was hairy, she loved a hairy man. She somehow found his scars to be endearing; they reminded her that he was close to invincible, that he walked through fire for them, as if they were meant to fall in love. She ran her fingers up and down his back, he shivered.

“Lizzie, we don’t have any protection.”

“It’s okay, birth control and all.”

He smiled brightly and her hands found the waistband of his boxers. She ran her nails around his lower belly before she suddenly dragged his boxers down to his knees. He kicked them off and she grabbed his thick length. She stroked him slowly, he was so warm and alive for her. 

He placed his hand over hers and brought her fingers to his mouth, drawing two past his lips, caressing her fingertips with his tongue. 

She started squirming under him. He could feel her clench her thighs together under him. 

“Red, please...I need you…”

He pulled her legs apart and drew her panties down painfully slow, placing kisses on her legs until he finished his task. Pulling her leg around his waist, he positioned himself near her entrance. 

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” He ran a knuckle down her cheek bone. 

“I love you, Raymond.”

“I love you, too.”

He thrust into her and they both breathed out in ease. 

“Oh Lizzie…”

She clutched onto his back as he created a steady rhythm. 

It didn’t take her long to reach her limit. She came undone around him, shouting his name, as if years of pent up desire all led to that moment. 

His movements became faster and his breathing heavier. As he spilled himself deep inside her, he kissed her cheeks, her neck, and rested his lips by her ear. 

“Lizzie, you feel like home.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


End file.
